


The Aftermath of the Little Bites

by MaxwellsDeamon



Category: Acquisitions Inc., C Team, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), The "C" Team
Genre: Angst, Gen, Philosophical ramblings, self-deprication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxwellsDeamon/pseuds/MaxwellsDeamon
Summary: Internal pondering of members of the "C" Team as they leave Neverwinter headed for Skolla. K'thriss has lost his vision, but what does each member of the teem feel about the experience?





	The Aftermath of the Little Bites

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to hold off until I had all the chapters done, but.. I'm really happy with this first one, so here we are.
> 
> Warning: the loss of eyes is mentioned a lot, even if it's not in gross detail. But yeah. Some eyes god busted.

It was no lie, not as I had intended it, that the loss of my physical eyes would be of no concern. To adjust to a life without vision is a simple thing. - calculation and assertion of a new synaptic relay. Such as that, it is merely an adjustment: insubstantial, unconcerning; a divergence from a reality in which the path that is followed is fallaciously contrived to be the only option. Being sighted for as long as I have been thusfar should be considered something of an achievement! The studies and strain I have - and would have still - put my eyes though in researching, studying, and testing unknown materials and substances would likely have yielded a similar optical result, eventually - what concern should it be that such an outcome has come to pass in this way? Indeed, this most novel of ocular liquidations is preferable! In years, it is but half a life gone for an Elf, so as male Drow of so low a High House, I should be considered most fortunate, especially given my circumstances. No, 380 years is enough. The loss of the physical manifestation of sight in and of *itself* might offer more insight than any restoration of these puny orbits could manifest. Indeed, there was no lie intended. 

As a case in point, perhaps a change was needed. It’s true, that much has been learned with this normal mortal vision: books read, experiments done, research performed, and observations taken - but it lends one to wonder, what have I missed because I have relied on my eyes? There are other senses, and it was foolish to let one sense dominate the playing field as much as I had. Certainly taste and touch were utilized, but always vision was held dominant. I was foolish to think having eyes meant I was not blind, when the instant I was made sightless, all was visible to me in that space.

That space.

I forget, at times, that I am no better than the other beings of which I find myself in the constant company. I don’t mean my party, or at least not exclusively them, but all material, mortal beings. Even as small as any one mortal being is, it is sometimes forgotten that we are all as nothing. One may think so grandly of itself that it - indeed, I - forget this actuality, even when in the presence of a petty - indeed, lower - God. Even the most learned, most mighty, or most austere of mortals is equal before such a Power - equal in an unceremoniously boundless lack of value. Indeed, so small are we, that when presented with an easy course of action, a single vantage, an obvious choice, it is often the case to just accept it at face value, to find the simple path, the trail with little resistance, the straight and unwavering. We don’t even realize we do it, I suspect. I hadn’t considered myself amongst those who follow this path, and yet, now that I have seen what I have - little though I retained - and have also lost the sight entirely, I realize that I too have been inclined to this weakness. I have not cast my gaze out beyond the pinprick. In seeking the truth beyond the veil I had forgotten to cast my gaze at the very veil itself! The result was simply the culmination of observations as they appear through a pre-ordained lense. A focal point within an obscured frame, and in such, the periphery was lost. Yes, having lost my eyes has put into perspective my own existence, and the Powers that surround, control, and corrupt it. A way to focus on other matters, in different ways, to find that deeper truth. The loss of eyes is, then, akin to the loss of distractions, and should take me closer to the substrate on which all other things are built. 

Contrarily, if I do ever find that vision is necessary, as I am sure I will if I intend to hold my position within the “C” Team - this franchise of the execrable Acquisitions Incorporated that I am resultantly bound to due to some unknowable interactions caused by the Odious Omin Dran - I shall do as I have in order to return to our ostentatious transportation, for there is always my dear sweet Ligotti.

 

Sweet precious Ligotti...

I am no fool, and blind as my physical body is, sightless in the physical sense, I am not blind to truth and fact. Ligotti had not meant the attack, had not planned it, ordained it, nor enjoyed it. And indeed, he had also been punished for it by the very force that had caused him to do the deed in the first place. I had seen the Little Mouth of this God of Mouths attempt to assert itself over the Gate - the maw of it’s horrible progenitor. He knew, as I now know - no, as I knew from that first encounter, but chose to ignore, thought to be mistaken - that there is no safety in the presence of this intercessor, this eldritch aperture. To know it is a promise, and the promise is a meal. Not the slow dissolution that one might consider of the stars at night dying slowly, and the sun failing to rise, or the end beyond all ends - but instead the gnashing of a mouth that realizes there will someday be no meat for it, and yet to which it still yearns. Ligotti knew all this, perhaps not in words or consciously, but in instinct and survival. Yet progress sometimes is the result of a pain, and a burden can become a blessing. No, it was not Ligotti’s fault, and it was not something he should regret, but it was something he knew in which I was remiss. 

I brought this upon myself and I will simply have to accept it as the result of miscalculated overzealousness - indeed the very value it now places upon this face is altered, and so must my inner countenance be adjusted to correct for logical fallacies that have been uncovered. My sighted eyes blinded my inner mind, and so now I must correct for this. Should I choose to use Ligotti’s eyes with any amount of regularity, I will need to resist the resounding temptation to let his superior vision overshadow my analytical perception, lest I fall for the very same deceit as I have thus.

Yes, this was all set due in course, as I allowed it to be, having accepted what I saw and presumed my own intellect to be the answer. There is much that I do not know, and now I am more aware of it than ever. This is no remorse, no sentimentality associated with the understanding that there is yet more work to do; the sheer amount of information still to uncover. This - for me, at least - can be nothing other than a gift I will refuse to squander! I may have made this ineffable pact without the clarity I might have desired, but in these mistakes I can uncover a truth I may not have known if I had understood the complex conditions for which I am now bound. If the core of this research clarifies unto me the Causality for which I once attempted to understand - for which I have seen in this extrasensory vision, and seen a glimpse of the mistake that I do not recall - then I have found my recourse. Indeed, to replicate an experiment with a result that I hope to be able to transcribe, to continue beyond and before this Causal Chain is what I must pursue. I may not enjoy Omin Dran in presence, and it is still unclear his role in my fractured memories of my once-great power, but, in some small way, it is likely that falling to the depths of that alley in Red Larch may have been the very key I needed to open this box of whispered secrets.

I had failed to see, failed to comprehend, and failed in practice, but what I have gained is an understanding in what I was _lacking_ to fathom. Whatever pact I have made - and indeed whatever meals I am expected to provide to an unworthy mouth - is as it should be. This is no punishment or reward, no victory or defeat. Simply another facet on a gem, another wave in a tumultuous sea unbidden by material physics. There is an endurance that can be understood as a path into the unknown.

Yes, these empty sockets, these ruptured spheres should be a reminder, if nothing else. A reminder to not lose a truer sight, a reminder of how close I had come, a reminder of what I have forgotten

Ah, yes! If only I could *remember*. But time will not stop here. I will remember again. 

All it takes is time.


End file.
